Hamaguri
by Megumi
Summary: My first attempt at FY fiction. -,- Flee in terror. *ahem* It's a Nakago + Tomo (my favorite pairing, so live with it), which means shounen ai (*sigh* I'll get around to yaoi, eventually) to some degree. Please r&r, as it helps me by leaps and bounds to h


The Library **Title:** Hamaguri   
**Author:** [Megumi Takahashii][1]   
**Warnings:** Shounen ai (*blinks* Otoko ai? I mean, Nakkie-poo *IS* 25...), death, brooding Nakago.   
**Rating:** PG   
**Description:** My first Fushigi Yuugi fic set, featuring my favorite couple, Nakago and Tomo ("Kakakakaka!"). I haven't seen the entire series yet, so I've based this on what I've read. Fushigi Yuugi and its characters belong to Watase Yuu and not myself, obviously... Phooey. This fic is my take on what could be going through Nakago's mind when, well, you know... Damn Tamahome... 

At any rate, I decided that it would be interesting to, at some point, try writing a single fic in three different persons: first, second, and third. This ficlet was ideal, as it was short and rather easy to write. As I said before, this is my first Fushigi Yuugi fic, so go easy on me. Please? *sniffles* 

  
My personal quotes are written like this: _~...~_   
Thought are in _italics._   
Any talking in the "afterlife" is written like this: _"..."_   
  
  


  
  
***Third Person*** 

  
_~No agony is as acute or as pleasurable as that of love.~_

Nakago didn't even make a sound as he felt the burning pain slice through him. Had a word escaped his lips, it would have been an utterance of sheer delight; had he breath left in him he would have laughed in exuberant joy. As it was, he was in far to high a state of ecstasy to accomplish either task. 

Oh, he was dying, to be sure. Nakago had no doubts of that, but above everything else he was a realist. That one advantage in his personality was prevalent over everything else; the sadism, masochism, cruelty, heartlessness, and all his other less-than-desirable qualities were merely the icing on the cake. A Nakago-cake, to be exact, one in which the seeds of hatred and desire were the baking powder that caused the cake to rise. 

And soon, this cake-to-be, this thin and watery concoction, would be placed into an oven to bake for an extended period of time. But unlike normal cookery, baking in the fires of Hell was quite different. Once he had risen and firmed into a glorious golden mound of sweet bread, steaming and moist, the heat would continue to beat down upon him. He would continue to bake until that delicious confection that he was would dry out, turning darker shades of brown, down the spectrum, until finally he would become drained of all color and be nothing more than a burnt lump in the bottom of the baking pan. And even then it would not stop, for the devil has no gentle hand and likes his food over-done. 

Or maybe, possibly, through some miracle, Nakago would be saved at just the right moment. Maybe some caring and gentle hand would reach in and remove him from the oven, and let him cool before devouring him. 

Nakago was one of the rare people blessed with the amazing sense of perception and the ability to the ability to think clearly even as he was facing death. He began to fall, his ice eyes clouding and closing as he sunk lower to the ground. A caring hand... _Tomo..._

Slowly, memories came back to him, memories he had long suppressed. He saw himself as a child, small and alone, hugging the violated and dead body of his mother. The sign in the middle of his forehead, his Seishi symbol, the heart, still burned faintly. He saw his comrades, and through it all, Soi. Soi, his friend, his now-deceased fellow Seiryuu warrior, his... lover? 

No. Not lover. Companion, maybe, but not a lover. Nakago wasn't sure, but he thought that for someone to qualify as a lover, feelings had to be shared between both parties. 

But now... Nakago could sense his chi dropping, and felt his heart, or the shredded remains of it, pulse slower and slower. There was an odd feeling in his chest, and as he faded, he realized what it was. The small clamshell he wore around his neck and under his clothing had shattered, and a large chip was slowly forcing itself into his heart. Finally, the blue eyes closed, and his hand slowly reached upwards towards the sky. A small, barely-noticeable smile curved his lips. "Soi..." 

_Tomo... I'm sorry Soi, but I never loved you the way you loved me. I tried to, believe me, I tried, but I fell in love with someone long ago._ As he finally gave up his life, images danced across Nakago's mind. He saw Tomo, the man with the undeniably strange, yet oddly attractive laugh, elaborate face paint, the headdress with the long feathers, the long, silky black hair, the beautiful golden eyes, the seeming ludicrous costume that in truth carried a hidden meaning... Then he saw Tomo without the paint, dressed only in a loincloth, bursting into his tent because he had sensed that something might have been wrong with the general. 

Tomo had loved him deeply, and it showed. And slowly, carrying out actions he had sworn never to perform, Nakago found himself falling in love with Tomo as well. Yet he couldn't say anything; he couldn't compromise his ideal relationship with Soi. Sleeping with the woman raised his chi, and she was affable enough. But he had slipped enough to sneak into Tomo's tent in the middle of the night to sit and watch the beautiful man sleep for a couple of hours at a time, occasionally reaching out to stroke the soft, silky hair. And often he had stolen glances at the small, open clamshell on the table next to Tomo's bed, watching the illusion Tomo had concocted and was playing for himself in his dreams. 

The contrast between the Tomo he knew and the Tomo others knew, Nakago noted with amusement, was as great as the difference between... well, between life and death. Others only saw the conniving, sadistic, cruel bastard who was the shichi seishi no Seiryuu, the monster who manipulated the minds and realities of others for the amusement of it. But they never saw the images in the clamshell during the night, never heard Tomo's soft whimpers and quiet moans of longing... 

Nakago felt a soothing, warm blanket slip over him. As death finally claimed him, he felt a sense of freedom, and, oddly, of hope. 

His eyes snapped open, and he looked around him. And there was the one person he sought. Tomo was standing, without the elaborate clothing or make-up, his face smiling and radiant. And then Nakago was falling into his arms, holding him close. _"Tomo... I've come home."_   
  
  


  
  
***Second Person*** 

  
_~No agony is as acute or as pleasurable as that of love.~_

You don't make a sound as you feel the burning pain slice through you. If a word were to escape your lips it would be an utterance of sheer delight; had you breath left in you, you would laugh with exuberant joy. As it is, you are in a state of ecstasy far to great to accomplish either one of these tasks. 

Oh, you are dying, to be sure. You have no doubts of that, but above everything else you are a realist. That one advantage in you personality is prevalent over everything else; the sadism, masochism, cruelty, heartlessness, and all of your other less-than-desirable qualities are merely the icing on the cake. A Nakago-cake, to be exact, one in which the seeds of hatred and desire are the baking powder that cause the cake to rise. 

And soon, this cake-to-be, this thin and watery concoction, will be placed into an oven to bake for an extended period of time. But unlike normal cookery, baking in the fires of Hell is quite different. Once you have risen and firmed into a glorious golden mound of sweet bread, steaming and moist, the heat will continue to beat down upon you. You will continue to bake until that delicious confection that you were dries out, turning darker shades of brown, down the spectrum, until finally you will become drained of all color and be nothing more than a burnt lump in the bottom of the baking pan. And even then it will not stop, for the devil has no gentle hand and likes his food over-done. 

Or maybe, possibly, through some miracle, you will be saved at just the right moment. Maybe some caring and gentle hand will reach in and remove you from the oven, and let you cool before devouring you. 

You are one of the rare people blessed with the amazing sense of perception and the ability to the ability to think clearly even as you are facing death. You begin to fall, your ice eyes clouding and closing as you sink lower to the ground. A caring hand... _Tomo..._

Slowly, memories come back to you, memories you have long suppressed. You see yourself as a child, small and alone, hugging the violated and dead body of your mother. The sign in the middle of your forehead, your Seishi symbol, the heart, still burns faintly. You see your comrades, and through it all, Soi. Soi, your friend, your now-deceased fellow Seiryuu warrior, your... lover? 

No. Not lover. Companion, maybe, but not a lover. You aren't sure, but you think that for someone to qualify as a lover, feelings have to be shared between both parties. 

But now... You can sense your chi dropping, and feel your heart, or the shredded remains of it, pulse slower and slower. There is an odd feeling in your chest, and as you fade, you realize what it is. The small clamshell you wear around your neck and under your clothing has shattered, and a large chip is slowly forcing itself into your heart. Finally, your blue eyes close, and your hand slowly reaches upwards towards the sky. A small, barely-noticeable smile curves your lips. "Soi..." 

_Tomo... I'm sorry Soi, but I never loved you the way you loved me. I tried to, believe me, I tried, but I fell in love with someone long ago._ As you finally give up your life, images dance across your mind. You see Tomo, the man with the undeniably strange, yet oddly attractive laugh, elaborate face paint, the headdress with the long feathers, the long, silky black hair, the beautiful golden eyes, the seeming ludicrous costume that in truth carried a hidden meaning... Then you see Tomo without the paint, dressed only in a loincloth, bursting into your tent because he had sensed that something might have been wrong with you. 

Tomo loved you deeply, and it showed. And slowly, carrying out actions you swore never to perform, you found yourself falling in love with Tomo as well. Yet you couldn't say anything; you couldn't compromise your ideal relationship with Soi. Sleeping with the woman raised your chi, and she was affable enough. But you slipped enough to sneak into Tomo's tent in the middle of the night to sit and watch the beautiful man sleep for a couple of hours at a time, occasionally reaching out to stroke the soft, silky hair. And often you stole glances at the small, open clamshell on the table next to Tomo's bed, watching the illusion Tomo had concocted and was playing for himself in his dreams. 

The contrast between the Tomo you knew and the Tomo others knew, you note with amusement, is as great as the difference between... well, between life and death. Others only saw the conniving, sadistic, cruel bastard who was the shichi seishi no Seiryuu, the monster who manipulated the minds and realities of others for the amusement of it. But they never saw the images in the clamshell during the night, never heard Tomo's soft whimpers and quiet moans of longing... 

You feel a soothing, warm blanket slip over you. As death finally claims you, you feel a sense of freedom, and, oddly, of hope. 

Your eyes snap open, and your look you look around yourself. And there is the one person you seek. Tomo is standing, without the elaborate clothing or make-up, his face smiling and radiant. And then you are falling into his arms, holding him close. _"Tomo... I've come home."_   
  
  


  
  
***First Person*** 

  
_~No agony is as acute or as pleasurable as that of love.~_

I don't even make a sound as I feel the burning pain slice through me. If a word were to escape my lips, it would be an utterance of sheer delight; had I breath left in me I would laugh in exuberant joy. As it is, I'm in far to high a state of ecstasy to accomplish either task. 

Oh, I am dying, to be sure. I have no doubts of that, but above everything else I am a realist. That one advantage in my personality is prevalent over everything else; the sadism, masochism, cruelty, heartlessness, and all my other less-than-desirable qualities are merely the icing on the cake. A Nakago-cake, to be exact, one in which the seeds of hatred and desire are the baking powder that cause the cake to rise. 

And soon, this cake-to-be, this thin and watery concoction, will be placed into an oven to bake for an extended period of time. But unlike normal cookery, baking in the fires of Hell will be quite different. Once I have risen and firmed into a glorious golden mound of sweet bread, steaming and moist, the heat will continue to beat down upon me. I will continue to bake until that delicious confection that I was dries out, turning darker shades of brown, down the spectrum, until finally I will become drained of all color and be nothing more than a burnt lump in the bottom of the baking pan. And even then it will not stop, for the devil has no gentle hand and likes his food over-done. 

Or maybe, possibly, through some miracle, I will be saved at just the right moment. Maybe some caring and gentle hand will reach in and remove me from the oven, and let me cool before devouring me. 

I am one of the rare people blessed with the amazing sense of perception and the ability to the ability to think clearly even as I am facing death. I begin to fall, my ice eyes clouding and closing as I sink lower to the ground. A caring hand... _Tomo..._

Slowly, memories come back to me, memories I have long suppressed. I see himself as a child, small and alone, hugging the violated and dead body of my mother. The sign in the middle of my forehead, my Seishi symbol, the heart, still burns faintly. I see my comrades, and through it all, Soi. Soi, my friend, my now-deceased fellow Seiryuu warrior, my... lover? 

No. Not lover. Companion, maybe, but not a lover. I'm not sure, but I think that for someone to qualify as a lover, feelings have to be shared between both parties. 

But now... I can sense my chi dropping, and feel my heart, or the shredded remains of it, pulse slower and slower. There is an odd feeling in my chest, and as I fade, I realize what it is. The small clamshell I wear around my neck and under my clothing has shattered, and a large chip is slowly forcing itself into my heart. Finally, my blue eyes close, and my hand slowly reaches upwards towards the sky. A small, barely-noticeable smile curves my lips. "Soi..." 

_Tomo... I'm sorry Soi, but I never loved you the way you loved me. I tried to, believe me, I tried, but I fell in love with someone long ago._ As I finally give up my life, images dance across my mind. I see Tomo, the man with the undeniably strange, yet oddly attractive laugh, elaborate face paint, the headdress with the long feathers, the long, silky black hair, the beautiful golden eyes, the seeming ludicrous costume that in truth carried a hidden meaning... Then I see Tomo without the paint, dressed only in a loincloth, bursting into my tent because he had sensed that something might have been wrong with me. 

Tomo loved me deeply, and it showed. And slowly, carrying out actions I swore never to perform, I found myself falling in love with Tomo as well. Yet I couldn't say anything; I couldn't compromise my ideal relationship with Soi. Sleeping with the woman raised my chi, and she was affable enough. But I slipped enough to sneak into Tomo's tent in the middle of the night to sit and watch the beautiful man sleep for a couple of hours at a time, occasionally reaching out to stroke the soft, silky hair. And often I stole glances at the small, open clamshell on the table next to Tomo's bed, watching the illusion Tomo had concocted and was playing for himself in his dreams. 

The contrast between the Tomo I knew and the Tomo others knew, I note with amusement, is as great as the difference between... well, between life and death. Others only saw the conniving, sadistic, cruel bastard who was the shichi seishi no Seiryuu, the monster who manipulated the minds and realities of others for the amusement of it. But they never saw the images in the clamshell during the night, never heard Tomo's soft whimpers and quiet moans of longing... 

I feel a soothing, warm blanket slip over me. As death finally claims me, I feel a sense of freedom, and, oddly, of hope. 

My eyes snap open, and I look around me. And there is the one person I seek. Tomo is standing, without the elaborate clothing or make-up, his face smiling and radiant. And then I am falling into his arms, holding him close. _"Tomo... I've come home."_   
  
  


*~Owari~* 

   [1]: mailto:JenovasDaughter@sephiroth.i-p.com



End file.
